My Lover's Gone
by Anelen
Summary: My interpretation of a song by Dido, including Jack and a certain OC that he does NOT fall in love with! Better summary inside. Short n' sweet, complete!


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Author's Note: I got the idea for this story by listening to "My Lover's Gone", a song recorded by Dido. After rereading the lyrics a few times, I realized that they describe almost perfectly the feelings that strumpets such as Scarlet and Giselle (the girls that slap Jack in Tortuga, for those of you who aren't good with names) might have after their "experience" with Jack. I just had to interpret it into my own story, and this is what became of it: a small, one-chapter fic, angsty at times, but I did my best to work as much action and dialogue between characters as a fic such as this would allow. Not that I have anything against angst! Angst can be good, it's just that I sometimes find it a bit boring when the whole story is nothing but angst. Ok, enough of that. Onto the story! Just read it and tell me what you think, savvy?

Oh, and I totally understand if you skipped the paragraph above and just went on to the story. It is a bit long, innit?

One more thing: I've posted the lyrics to "My Lover's Gone" (the song) at the end of the fic for those of you who are interested. Ok, I'm really done now . . . hopefully. 

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Disclaimer: To make a long story short, I do not own anything that may seem familiar to others. Not even the plot. The whole idea came from a song titled "My Lover's Gone", recorded by Dido. That, and a certain movie that we all know and love . . . C'mon people! "Pirates of the Caribbean"! Jeesh! 

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My Lover's Gone

The emptiness of my bed wakes me just as it does every morning after a night such as the last. The cool Caribbean breeze gently urges me to rise, but today I feel I have no reason to. The rush of the waves on the sandy beach outside my window will not let me return to sleep however, so I pull the covers off myself and sit up. I look around, and see his boots no longer by my door. My body tenses, I feel I'm about to cry, but instead my insides go numb. 

My lover's gone. He left as they always do, waking from my bed as the first rays of the early dawn rise idly from the horizon. Like so many others before him, he stealthily gathered his belongings and was out the door in the blink of an eye. They never even utter a word of good-bye; thinking that I'll never know, I'm still asleep. He was no different . . . oh, but I am wrong. He was very different indeed. It even started out differently this time. 

I first laid eyes on him in the town's local tavern, of course. That was no different. But it was him who did all the sweet-talking. I barely had to work for my prize. I just stood there with my friends, fellow strumpets, looking beautiful and appealing. My chestnut brown hair done up in a fine, but complicated looking bun, with little ringlets, too stubborn to stay up, falling down around my face. My big green eyes accentuated by large amounts of make-up upon my face, and to top it off, a fine blood red dress complete with gold-colored trimmings that complimented my fine curves nicely. 

He was sitting at a table in the corner with another man, much more older and dirtier looking than he. Our eyes met, and he beckoned me over, a mischievous grin playing across his finely chiseled face. I melted. This man was unlike any other I'd seen before. A tangled mess of black hair, dreadlocks, and beads fell about his face, just barely kept back by a red bandana, matching superbly with my dress. He even had two beaded braids in his goatee (it wasn't quite big enough to be called a beard), complimented nicely by a dark moustache. He must be just barely older than me, I thought happily. 

But his eyes were what almost made me loose my composure. They were a deep dark brown, carefully framed by black kohl around the edges. With those eyes, he had me mesmerized. I immediately ceased my profound giggling and batting of eyelashes, and in a sort of daze I walked across the brawling tavern to him. When I finally reached him, I stood, motionless, in front of my destination. His companion, a short, stocky man with a salty gray beard, traced my steps back to the sweet-talking temptresses I knew as friends. He gave the handsome man in front of me a wide grin, then got up from the table and began to head for them. The younger of the two gave him a knowing smile before turning his attention back to me. His cocky grin returned and he motioned for me to settle on his lap. I suddenly remembered what I was there for and, with a certain giddiness, did just that.

He revealed a drink for me, and set it next to his on the table. I took the hint and grabbed them both, playfully handing him his before sloppily pouring the sweet contents of my own tankard down my parched throat. When I had succeeded in drinking half the spicy rum within, I set it on the table and watched him down what was left of his drink. Finishing, he triumphantly set hi own cup next to mine and turned to me. I gave him a seductive grin and he put his arm around me. I shivered. What was wrong with me? I've never been shy in my work before. With his free hand he reached to trace the area around my collarbone and the front part of my neck. I held back a tiny gasp of pleasure. He stopped, leaving his callused hand to rest just above my right breast. 

"As much of a gem as you are, a lass such as you deserves a neck equal in splendor, am I not right?" he said suddenly.

"What's that supposed to mean, Mr. . . . ?"

"Smith," he said as he dug into his coat pocket, apparently searching for something. 

"Mr. Smith, am I not pleasant enough to your liking? Surely you wouldn't invite me over just for a quick drink?" I playfully chided. 

"Of course not, love." He finally succeeded in finding whatever it was he was searching for, and with a small flourish of his arm, presented a green velvet case of some sort in front of me. "I'm simply implying that you might find a great deal of pleasure in something such as this." He luxuriously opened the case to reveal a dazzling diamond necklace. The chain part of it was constructed purely out of small, white diamonds, while the main attraction consisted of the most marvelous jade-green gem in the shape of a sphere, about twice the size of the gold coin dangling from his red bandana. On the sides, the same type of diamonds decorating the delicate chain surrounded it. 

I could only stare in awe as he set the case on the table, removed the necklace, and reached around me to clip it into place around my neck. The gleaming diamond scattered shards of brilliant light about the tavern as he did so. I stared in wonder. Finally, the only words I could choke out were,

"Where did you get this . . . why would you so willingly give it to me?"

"Well," came his reply, " I gave it to you because one, I've got plenty of where that came from, and two, because I couldn't resist!" A foolish grin snuck onto his beautiful face as he comically shrugged. In the moment I loved him even more. I know the feeling I was getting was no good at all, especially for a woman of my . . . profession. But he was so irresistible!

"It's stunning," I purred. "But where did you get it?" I asked again, knowing too well the answer. 

"I simply borrowed it without permission," he said proudly, "but with every intention of giving it back." He paused here, then said "just not to the same person, savvy?" Another mischevious grin spread across his face as I laughed giddily, taking another swing of rum; the initial shock wearing off, as I'm accustomed to being in the presence of the least trustworthy of men. 

"Well, Mr. Smith, I must say you are right. I do find a great deal of pleasure in this," I said as I fingered the delicate necklace lovingly. "But I would find even more pleasure in taking you back to my room." This was not the first time I'd said something along those lines, but it certainly was the first time I'd actually meant it, I realized. 

He replaced his arm around me, pulling me closer to him, so that I could smell the tang of rum on his lips and the essence of the salty sea in his hair. 

"A sailor, are you?"

"MmHmm," he nodded distractedly, as he too began to finger the breathtaking diamond now resting upon my collarbone. However, it wasn't long before his searching hand wandered lower, on top of my upper breast. He stopped for a few seconds, feeling the rhythm of my chest heaving up and down, my silent breathing. He then worked his way down to my corset. Somehow, he found the limp cords and began to leisurely tug. 

"Aye, to your room it is, love." 

How foolish I was to fall in love with that man. I knew he was a sailor, therefore I should have known he would leave me after he got what he wanted, just like the rest have done in the past. I should have expected no different from him. 

What made me think he actually loved me? Could it be the necklace? I look down at my neck. It still lies there, the priceless scar of my soul. Or perhaps it was his charming mannerisms: the way in which he expresses himself is quite interesting. His silky words, lulling me into a state of bliss, the queer way in which he moves, almost gracefully swaying about. Ever moving. Maybe it was that last kiss right here, in this very room? I wonder.

I walk to my window and gaze out into the endless horizon. A single tear washes from my eye and trickles down my cheek. Even when I was sleeping, I felt him go. He "borrowed" a part of my soul without permission. This time though, he will not return it. Another tear falls. I will not watch the ocean. No earthly ships will ever bring him home again. But it seems my eyes are glued to that horizon, for when I try to turn away, nothing happens. 

Suddenly, a smart rap on the door tears my gaze from the window. Numb again, I turn and walk towards the door. When I open it, I find two soldiers of the Royal Navy, straight-backed and straight-faced, standing outside the door. 

"Beg your pardon miss, sorry to disturb you," one begins. "We're looking for a certain Captain jack Sparrow." He said the name with disgust. "Looted an expensive house in the next town over, he did. Someone said they'd seen 'im heading in the direction of this town last night. Any chance you've seen or heard of 'im?"

"You-you mean Captain Jack Sparrow, the pirate? Scourge of the Caribbean? Captain of the Black Pearl?! Here?!" I was amazed. I had only heard stories of this curious captain, some of which couldn't have been true. They somehow made me all the more scared, but appreciative of him. 

"Yes . . . miss," the other soldier continues rather dully. He seems annoyed. "Have you seen 'im?" he repeats in an impatient tone.

"I don't know. His appearance is very questionable to me."

The first soldier laughs.

"Well," he chuckles good-naturedly, "He's quite hard to miss. It's that hair, mostly. Long, black, braids and beads even! Ridiculous! Walks pretty funny too, if you ask me. Looks like he's drunk even when he's sober!" the soldiers sniggered. I can only gawk, wide-eyed. No way, I'm telling myself. That's impossible. And yet . . . it makes sense. Of course he wouldn't tell me his real name if he knew he was being followed. It would also explain his early departure . . . and the necklace. I look down, horrified. It's still on me! Seeing my face, the soldiers stop laughing and follow my gaze. 

"Where did you get that?" the second soldier questions in wonder and astonishment.

"Well, I-uh . . . " I stutter. I stand there for a moment in stunned silence, mulling over how I'm going to get out of this one. Then it comes to me. "My . . . husband. He's a merchant sailor. Said he bought it just for me on one of his travels. Never told me how, but he's an honest man! I swear it! Gave it to me last night as a good-bye present. He just left this morning, said he was going on a long voyage and wouldn't be home for about a year." 

"Is that so?" the second soldier snarls bitterly. 

"Yes, it is." I say forcefully, a look of determination on my once weary face. "And as for Captain Jack Sparrow," growing more confident, I take the liberty to change the subject, "I'm sorry to say I've neither seen, nor heard of him."

"Yes, well, thank you for your time, miss." Bewildered, the soldiers retreat, and I gently close the door. I smile. "But I have fallen in love with him."

~End~

"My Lover's Gone"

My lover's gone,

His boots no longer by my door, 

He left at dawn, 

And as I slept I felt him go.

Returns no more, I will not watch the ocean.

My lover's gone,

No earthly ships will ever bring him home again,

Bring him home again.

My lover's gone,

I know that kiss will be my last,

No more his song,

The tune upon his lips has passed

I sing alone, while I watch the ocean

My lover's gone,

No earthly ships will ever bring him home again,

Bring him home again. 

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Authors Note Again: So there ya have it. I hope it didn't seem like mindless chatter to you, my first work, you know. I tried my best with the grammar and typos, but at least 10 will always get past you, even when you're 100% sure you got 'em all. So please, if you're going to flame me, just don't do it about that, savvy? Ok, thanks for your time, tell me if you like it and would like to read more from me, because I don't want to waist my time writing another fic that no one will read. Ta!

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